Accident
by Capra hircus
Summary: One-shot. Sometimes there is less to a person than one may think. (Gaz's POV, slight ZADR, NOT a happy tale.)


Author's note: As mentioned in the summary, this is NOT a happy fic. Not at all. I know the summary was very vague, but seeing as this is a one-shot and a short one at that, I didn't want to say any more, because I felt anything more would ruin it. This is entirely in Gaz's POV, save the "conversation" breaks, which are a flashback-ish thing to the accident. I provide only words because I like to be vague. This does contain ZADR, though in love entirely, no romantic scenes or anything like that. If you feel the need to flame for that, email me. Don't flame on a review, please. All I ask is a little common curtousy. **I do not own ANY of the characters here; they were created by Jhonen Vasquez and are his children, not mine. You probably should have assumed as much; you're on ff net for crying out loud.**

Accident

"I want to show you something, Dib-stink."

"Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see."

"ZIM—"

"Dib-human? Dib-human! What are you doing? Dib! Answer me!"

"…"

"Get up, Dib! Stop playing around! Dib? Dib! What—"

"…"

"_DIB_, please! Get up, Dib! Wake up! Wake up! _Dib_!"

xxxxx

It was an accident.

I saw that the moment I opened the door. His pleas weren't necessary. I would have known even if he had never come at all. But of course, he had; he felt he had to.

They loved each other. I'm not sure when it started, and I don't really care to find out. It doesn't matter. What did matter was that they did. Had.

The rivalry had been over for some time when he came to me. A long time, actually. Both of them kept up the act. Dib continued to rant about saving the world, and Zim continued to rant about destroying it. Neither of them meant it. It stopped being important. Why, how, I don't know. I don't care either. All I know is that it was inevitable. I knew from the first day I saw them together. I didn't care. It wasn't my concern.

Years ago, maybe. Perhaps it was only months. He knew, I'm sure. I doubt he lost track of a day. Dib had come home, silent. I hadn't noticed; I never did. He had gone upstairs for a while; maybe it was only for a second, maybe more. When he came down again, he was empty handed. The door shut softly behind him.

He told me, standing there, fully exposed in the middle of the afternoon. It was the first day of their truce. Their friendship. The first day they had given up the act among each other.

It was an accident. I didn't care.

xxxxx

"Dib! Wake up! Please! Please! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please wake up! I didn't mean to! Please, get up!"

"…"

"COMPUTER!"

"What?"

"FIX HIM!"

"…"

"COMPUTER!"

xxxxx

"Can you fix him?"

The first thing he said when I answered the door. His eyes, huge and red, no longer hidden by those ridiculous contacts of his, pleaded with me. Begged me to say yes, to take the limp body from his arms and will life back into it.

I just stared.

He broke down in front of me, cradling the unresponsive boy in his arms as he sobbed. Dib told me once, not longer after the two of them had first met, that Zim's people were heartless. If he had seen him then, had seen the desperation with which the alien clung to him… But by that time, he didn't really need to see. He had already known. And now he was crying in front of me, finally realizing what was happening. That he _couldn't_ be fixed.

I just stared.

He screamed at me that it was an accident, that he hadn't meant to. That he had never wanted to hurt him, that he had been too late, hadn't seen in time. His strange tears plummeted down onto the pale, still face as he raised it to his cheek, choking on his sobs. He refused to let him go.

I said nothing and walked away, leaving him to his tears.

xxxxx

"COMPUTER! Analysis!"

"Subject Dib's wounds are fully healed."

"Dib! You can get up now! You're okay! You're fixed!"

"…"

"Dib? Computer! Why does Dib not respond?"

"…"

"COMPUTER! …Come on, Dib. Get up. Please."

"…Subject Dib is deceased."

xxxxx

I didn't care.

An alien stood before me, my dead brother in his arms, and I did not care. I turned and made towards the living room without a second thought or feeling. Dib was dead. I was not in denial. I knew it, understood it before he had, carrying the useless corpse gently, as if it mattered either way. I simply did not care. Not an emotion ran through me; not shock, not fear, not worry or hatred. Not even sorrow. I feel nothing now. I never have.

They were only ever friends, I think. But they both meant everything to the other; enough, clearly, to give up their petty missions and goals in return for the friendship. I did not know about Zim's view until that moment, but Dib had loved him. I had heard him saying so one night, as he spoke aloud to himself; I didn't think about it. It didn't bother me. I didn't care. Zim would never know, nor more than Dib himself would ever know that his feelings had been returned. I did not plan on telling him.

He had dropped to his knees when I turned away. His voice was hoarse and broken as he shrieked at me, demanded that I come back, that I help him. He could not let go, could not admit that there was no help to be had. I did not pity him, though his only friend was gone and his love, a corpse; I did not comfort him or feel for his pain, even though he had sacrificed everything, everything, for the dead boy in his shaking arms.

I felt nothing, though my brother was gone forever and his one friend was kneeling behind me, heart broken and soul crushed.

I did not care.

xxxxx

"No! NO! It can't be! You're lying!"

"…"

"_DIB!_ Dib, come back! You can't be dead! You can't be!"

"…"

"You can't be dead! You're—you're not. Get up! Just get up, you filthy human!"

"…"

"I didn't mean it. Please, come back. I'm sorry; I'm sorry! Now won't you get up?"

"…"

"You're not supposed to die! You're not supposed to leave me! …Wake up, Dib, wake up!"

"…"

"Dib…"

xxxxx

He wouldn't leave.

I didn't ask him to, but I didn't speak to him, either. His antennae were pressed flat against his head, his chest heaving as he held the remainder of my brother close and tight. If I felt anything at that moment, it was irritation. He refused to budge from the doorway, shaking his head and mumbling something about waiting until he woke up. It had become something of a mantra with him. _Can't go… have to wait… Wake up, Dib, wake up… Can't go… have to wait…_The door was wide open and his crumpled figure prevented it from being closed again; he was letting in a draft.

I scowled and left him, this time making it to the living room without being stopped, or at least allowing myself to be. Grabbing the remote, I sat down on the couch and began flipping channels, acting as if nothing had happened.

In my eyes, nothing had.

xxxxx

"I'll fix you, Dib, I promise."

"…"

"I'll fix you somehow."

xxxxx

I don't think he knew.

He must not have, because he came to me; he wouldn't have if he knew. Even if he had realized that there was nothing to be done, no way to help him, I think he still would have come. It wouldn't be that way if he had known.

He was the only one.

People usually misunderstand. They—we—didn't hate Dib. There were times when we did, but that's the truth for everyone, at some point; people don't understand that it wasn't a prolonged loathing. Irritation at times, of course. But he wasn't hated. It's simple, really.

No one cared.

Not me, not our father, not the entire rest of the world. Dib is—was—nothing. No one cared either way, whether he succeeded or failed, lived or died. What happened to him meant nothing, because that's what he was to all of us. His existence was futile, but we didn't pay it any attention anyway; what he did with it didn't matter, as long as he kept out of our hair. I doubt anyone even noticed him, when he wasn't making a scene. It would have been so easy for him just to disappear entirely; we wouldn't have cared.

It was different for Zim.

I have heard it is better to be hated than to be ignored completely. At least that way, you mattered, if only in a negative way. And when that stupid alien landed here, that's exactly what he did for him; he hated him, hated him more than he hated anyone else. Suddenly Dib existed.

I have also heard there is a fine line between hate and love. Somewhere down the years, this was proven true as well. Even if he was invisible to the rest of the world, Dib had gained not merely a place in someone's heart, but the whole damned thing.

He didn't understand; there was nothing I could do for him, nothing I _would_ do for him.

Zim had already done everything.

xxxxx

"You're—you're safe now, Dib. Just hold on.

"I'll never let you go."

xxxxx

I do not write this out of love.

I write it only because to explain multiple times would be a burden, both to me and to those wishing to butt into other people's business. It would be a waste of precious energy, a thing better spent doing something else. There's no more of the invisible boy to distract me anymore, trying so desperately to be seen. The silence is finally complete.

Eventually Zim moved. He had sat there for hours, mourning his love and rocking the heavy body, still pleading for him to wake up. Night had already fallen when he approached me. I knew he was coming because the draft went away. My only thought was that it had taken him long enough.

Dib was still in his arms. To this day I do not know what killed him, nor do I particularly care to investigate further. There were no visible wounds on him, no signs that would indicate internal damage, even. If not for the lolling head and still, cold chest, I might have believed he was just sleeping alongside the weeping extraterrestrial. But the cause of his death did not concern me, nor does it now. I don't think about it; it never even crosses my mind.

Somehow, his eyes were still damp when he approached me. He had yet to release the lifeless Dib, and by the look he gave me, it didn't seem like he was planning on doing so anytime soon. For a moment he stood, staring at me, misery and determination present in every facet of his being. Wordlessly, he reached behind him. And, though I had never seen what he then held out to me before in my lifetime, it was not hard to guess.

A gun. Clearly no kind of weaponry from this world. I took it without giving it a second glance, holding it with the hand not occupied with the remote. His next words were not needed; I knew what he wanted.

"Get your revenge."

I stared back at him, a single eye opened halfway to get a clearer look. Saying nothing, I lifted the gun slowly, finger adjusting to the feel of the foreign trigger. He had not moved back after handing it to me, as if to make sure that, even now, Dib did not get affected in any way. Still rocking gently, he looked down at the closed, still eyes, his own still leaking silent tears. A green hand, ungloved, stroked the pale face tenderly, then moving up to run its fingers through the unchanged hair. He whispered to the dead boy quietly, almost too quietly for me to hear, but not quite.

"_Don't worry, Dib. I'll be with you soon enough."_

And with that, he leaned down and planted a soft kiss on the cold forehead, those unusual tears trailing down his equally green cheeks. He looked up, boring his eyes into mine.

I positioned the gun and tightened a finger over the trigger.

xxxxx

"I love you, Dib."

xxxxx

…I loosened my grip.

My hand held out the gun to him, turning it so that the handle faced him. Before he could resist, I dropped it into his outstretched palm. He looked down at it, then back up at me, confused and hurt.

"Go home, Zim."

The only words I spoke to him on that day. The last words I would ever say to him, for that matter.

With a flick of the wrist the television was off, and I brushed past him silently towards the stairs. His eyes were wide, never losing that look of pain, bewilderment, not understanding why I, the sister of the boy who had died from his accident, his mistake, did not take my revenge.

I knew then that he would never know.

Dib was nothing to me; no matter how long I live, Dib will never mean anything to me. Not the fact that he was abandoned, not the fact that he was found, and certainly not the fact that he died so young. I have said it before, and I will say it again. He was nothing, and what happened to him was not my concern, not anyone's concern.

Except for Zim.

Zim alone mourned the death of the invisible boy; Zim alone made the vow to never let go. He would be the only one to notice his absence until the public announcement, weeks from the day, made by our father; he had only noticed when he found one less face to feed at the monthly "family night". I had to tell him. And even then, when the speakers blared it all over town, the little alien was the only one to shed a tear.

But at the time, he only stood, following my progress with those miserable eyes, Dib, the boy he alone had cared for, cradled in his arms.

I slammed the door behind me as I entered my room. Eventually he got the hint, and minutes later I heard the faint creaking as the front door was opened and then closed again. And just like that, to the rest of the world, Dib might have never existed at all.

As for me?

The Game Slave awaits.

FIN.


End file.
